Coping With Loss
by EstrellaQueAdmiro
Summary: Jasmine Alice Whitlock's Mom, Alice, died shortly after her birth. Fourteen years later, and her father still hasn't got over her, leaving Jasmine knowing the bare minimum about her mother.
1. Hope

Jasmine   
I hated my life. I had no friends. My mom died when I was a baby, and my dad seemed to blame me for that. I had a family who supported me and consolated for my Dad's neglect. But it still didn't feel the same as having a loving relationship with my parents. I did well at school, which was another positive aspect, I guess.  
Whenever I asked my father about my mom, his response would either be,  
"Ask your grandma," or "Why do you want to know?" or he would ignore me and leave the room. I often chose to stay at my Grandma and Grandpa's house instead of staying at home with Dad.  
Ever since my mother died, Grandma Esme mostly raised me, as my father was grieving Mom intensely. She was angry at him for concentrating more on his dead wife than his baby daughter.  
Grandma would tell me vague stories of my Mom when she was my age, and I was fascinated to learn more about her. I asked to see a picture of her, and she showed me some pictures of her the year before she died. I gazed in awe at the beautiful woman smiling in the photo. Her long black hair fell to just below her shoulders. I had clearly inherited her hair colour, but my hair was curly, like my dad's. Her deep blue eyes resembled mine, but everyone says my eyes were the exact shape of my father's.  
"You look so much like your mom, Jasmine," Grandma always said to me, but then she'd sigh, "But Alice was always smiling, and I hate seeing you so upset, honey."  
I hated _being_ upset all the time. According to everyone at school, I was a freak with a dead mother and a strict teacher for a father. The strict teacher who barely talked to me in class, let alone at home.  
He was my form tutor, and I've always been suspicious that Grandma had asked to have me put in my Dad's class so we could bond, which never happened.  
Every other teacher I had always made an effort to be nice to me and look after me. In an attempt to be kind, my music teacher had nominated me to sing for a state singing contest.  
I _hated_ singing in front of an audience. My music class was bad enough, but I'd have to stand on a stage in front of a panel of judges, and at least 50 sets of parents. I was one in fifty entrants, who were all perfectly confident and ready to perform.  
Dad had seemed pretty impressed by my opportunity.  
"Wow," he had said, "That's...that's really great, Jasmine."  
He even _smiled_, which was a rare sight on my father. I knew I had done good.  
"I don't know if I want to do it, Dad," I mumbled, "I don't really like singing in front of an audience."  
"What are you talking about, Jasmine?" Dad glared, "You're talented, don't waste this! Your Mom would have snapped up the chance, no matter how scared she was."  
I looked at the floor, hurt and annoyed by Dad's repetitive comparisons to my mother to bring me down. I nodded and sighed.  
"I'll do it," I stated, "But only if you come to watch."  
Dad rolled his eyes, "You're 14, Jasmine. You're old enough to go without me holding your hand. Your music teacher will go, and I'm sure Esme will go."  
"Fine," I murmured, and shut myself in my room as always.


	2. Grandparents

I desperately wanted my father to come to watch me, but I knew if I tried, he would only get angry. I walked home to Grandma and Grandpa's house after school the next day. My Grandpa _always_ helped me with my science, math and English homework. I wanted proper encouragement from him, and my Grandma. Dad had to work late, and he barely seemed to care about where I went after school. I could go and get murdered and he wouldn't get upset.  
Grandma welcomed me at the door, hugging me close and stroking my hair.  
"Did you have a good day at school?" she asked, and I shrugged.  
"I suppose so...I have to represent my school in a singing contest," I told her. Grandma's face lit up.  
"Well done, honey!" she smiled, kissing my forehead, "What did your dad say?"  
I smiled, still shocked that he had complimented me, "He smiled at me and said it was great," I began, "But he won't come and watch me. He said I was old enough for him to not hold my hand."  
Grandma sighed, "It's OK, sweetie. I'll go, and Grandpa will go too I'm sure."  
I smiled a little, "But I'm scared. I can't sing in front of all those people."  
Grandma kissed my forehead again, "Jazzy, it's OK. That's not so bad. Be confident. You'll win easily."  
"But I'm shy, and I'm nothing special," I protested sadly.  
"You'll do great. Grandpa will be home in about an hour, so you can ask him when he gets back. He might be a bit tired though."  
Grandma made me some pancakes with strawberries, and I finished them just as Grandpa came home.  
"Hey, Grandpa," I smiled a little as he entered the kitchen.  
"Hey, Jazz," he smiled back, and I went to hug him close. My grandparents were more like parents to me.  
"Jazzy's been chosen to compete in a singing contest!" Grandma squealed, and Grandpa smiled.  
"That's great," he said proudly, "Your mom would be so proud of you."  
"Will you go, Grandpa?" I asked hopefully.  
"Jasmine, why weren't you at home?" My Dad's voice sounded behind me, and I turned around. Dad was standing behind me. I sighed.  
"I only wanted support," I said quietly, but Dad's expression didn't change.  
"Come on, you're coming home. I need to talk to you about this singing contest, and about your latest assignment."  
"I want to stay at Grandma and Grandpa's tonight," I stated. Dad rolled his eyes.  
"You spend too much time here. Come on; don't act like a six year old. You're coming home," he ordered, picking up my bags.  
"I'm not going!" I yelled, and ran upstairs to my room. When I stayed at my grandparent's house, I slept in my mom's old room. There were old posters of her favourite bands and films covering the wall, and her clothes were in the closet. My Dad had taken all the photos from her room, except for a picture of her holding me as a baby. He'd either left it in there to keep it out of his sight, or because he actually wanted me to see some evidence that I was loved.


	3. Revealed

I lay on my bed, staring at the photo on my bedside table. After a few minutes, I reached and took the photo, placing it beside my head. I took in every detail

Mom was cradling me tenderly but protectively, flashing her perfect teeth in a smile. I was _tiny, _nestled in her arms and sleeping peacefully. Mom's deep blue eyes were watching over me, overflowing with adoration and love.

Why did she have to die? Dad would be so much happier, and he'd probably show some love towards me. I'd actually feel like I wasn't an orphan.

I'd never understood why he'd always been so cold to me. It wasn't _my_ fault that my Mom had died. Grandma had always told me how she'd died when I was about two months old. No one had ever told me about the cause of death.

I looked over at the calendar in my room, and then guiltily realised that tomorrow was the fourteenth anniversary of my mother's death. I then shrugged off all the annoyance about Dad being so unreasonable. He was always like this around that day.

I stared at my photo for a while, but then sat up as I heard Grandma and Dad arguing.

"Why can't you just act like a father to her, Jasper?! You treat her like she's someone you can't stand to be around! She's your daughter, she's the only part of Alice you have left!" Esme snapped, "You can't blame her for Alice's death. It's been nearly fourteen years now. You need to move on and look after Jazzy properly!"

"You think I blame Jasmine for Alice's death?" Dad shot back. Slowly, I slipped from my room and sat at the top of the staircase, out of sight.

"You act like it! Even when she was a toddler, a tiny little girl that depended on your love and nurturing, you pushed her away! A two year old approaching her father with a huge smile on her face, just wanting love in some form, and you just turn away!"

"You raised her fine," Dad replied sharply.

"That's not the point, Jasper. She needed _you_. It took a while for her to get used to not having Alice around, and you could have helped her settle, she was most familiar with you and Alice."

"It was difficult, okay?!" Dad yelled, but then seemed to calm a little, "I needed time after I lost Alice and Izzy so quickly."

I stopped listening for a while to contemplate. Who was Izzy? The only thing I could think of was that she must have been a sibling or maybe cousin of my father.

"Why haven't you told Jazzy about Izzy? She has a right to know that she had a twin."

I gasped loudly in complete shock. Dad and Grandma both looked up at me. Grandma gave me a sympathetic look, and then looked back at my father with a glare.

"I knew she'd find out in a way like this instead of you telling her," she muttered. Dad was glaring up at me, no sympathy or guilt in his eyes.

"What are you doing up there?" he snapped. I stood up, unable to speak. After a few moments, I choked out;

"I hate you!"

I ran into my room again, and I heard footsteps running upstairs.

"Jazzy!" Grandma gasped, coming into my room. Surprisingly, Dad followed. I was laid on my bed, hugging the photo of Mom and me to my chest and crying hard.

"Oh, sweetheart," Grandma sighed softly, sitting beside me and stroking my hair. Dad wasn't so comforting. From the corner of my eye, I could see him glaring at me.

"You shouldn't have been listening, Jasmine," he said, his voice harsh.

"What, so you could have kept on lying to me?! What else don't I know? I have five half sisters and brothers from previous relationships?" I yelled, standing up, "You don't tell me anything about my mum, and now I find out I have a twin?!"

"Jazzy, calm down," Grandma put her hands on my shoulders. I shook her off, ignoring her pleas and going closer to him.

"You don't love me! You can't even _pretend!_ I wish you'd died instead of Mom!"

I regretted what I said as soon as the words fell from my tongue. Before I could apologise, Dad struck me across the face.

"That's enough!" he ordered, and I backed against the wall, my hands on my face in terror.

"Jasper!" Grandma gasped in horror, unable to stop me as I escaped the room, the house, and ran into the forest behind the back yard. The photo was still in its frame in my hands.

Sitting on a fallen tree by the ravine, I removed the photo from its frame. By doing this, I discovered that the photo was photo. Gently, I straightened out the photo to find my father smiling back at me. A rare sight for me. In his arms was another baby, a little bigger than the one in Mom's arms. I couldn't tell if he was holding me or my sister, and this ruined it all for me.


	4. Twin

"You were always the tiny one," Grandad said behind me, "Your mother adored you so much. Both of you."

He came to sit beside me, pulling me close. I rested my head on his shoulder sadly, and he kissed my cheek.

"Why did no one tell me?" I sighed.

"Your father wouldn't let us. He said it would encourage you to ask questions," Grandad sighed with me, "I'm sorry."

"Tell me about her..." I paused, "Izzy."

Grandad ran a hand through his hair, staring at the forest floor for a moment. After just a few silent seconds that seemed to last a lifetime, he looked back up at me again.

"You were both born three months early, so you had to stay in hospital for quite a while. You were a lot smaller and weaker than your sister, but you both pulled through and went home together. You got sick a lot, and your mom began to struggle. She loved you both with all her heart, and this was evident, but closer to hers and Izzy's deaths, she began to get depressed with the pressures of being such a young mother. Just a few days after you recovered from a mild virus, she went to check on you and..."

Grandad put his head in his hands for a while, trying to hold himself together for my sake.

"Izzy wasn't breathing."

I gasped a little, "What happened to her?!" I asked in a panic.

"Infant mortality is unpredictable, and sometimes it's almost impossible to diagnose. Izzy's death hit your mom hard. She was hysterical down the phone to me...begging for me to save her, to do anything to bring her back. I couldn't. I told her that. I told her so many times that it was too late, but she wouldn't accept it. She was _screaming_ at me, determined that I didn't _want_ to do anything when of course I did. I came to the house with some other doctors to take Izzy away, although the whole time, your mom was trying to stop me."

He trailed away, tears in his eyes.

"What about Dad?" I asked quietly, "Where was he?"

I'd hoped he'd been there. I didn't hope this out of spite; I just didn't want Mom to have been alone when it happened.

"You'd started crying, probably due to your mom's hysterics. You knew something was wrong, most likely. Your Dad lifted you up and comforted you, and he was crying as well, naturally. I guess they were just worried about you too. You were the weakest. If they thought they'd lose one of you – which of course they didn't – they had thought it would have been you. There was a risk they could lose you as well."

"When did he turn so...against me?" I whispered shakily, not wanting to cry more than I already was.

"After your mom died, he left you with us...we thought he'd take you back after the funeral, but he didn't. It took him eight years," Dad shook his head, "We supported him. We wanted him to stay healthy; we didn't want you to grow up without both parents."

"He allowed me to live with him when I was eight," I nodded, "But even then, our conversations never went past my schoolwork, or what I wanted for dinner the next day."

"Jazzy!" Grandma's footsteps came close, "You're alright!"

I ran to her immediately, and she threw her arms around me tightly.

"It's alright, sweetie. It's alright," she sighed, stroking my hair soothingly. I was less upset than she had anticipated, but she carried on pacifying me.

"Dad?" I whispered, looking to see if he was coming behind.

"He went home. Come on, sweetie. Come inside. You can stay here tonight," Grandma took my arm, "I have some things to show you."

"About my mom?" I asked, and to my delight, she nodded.

"It's about time you learned all about her," Grandma displayed an excited grin, "I don't care what your father says. She's your mother, and you deserve to know about her more than anyone else."

She reached and kissed my cheek lovingly, "And I have _so _much to show you!"


	5. Home Movies

Grandad went upstairs to do some paperwork for the hospital while I sat on the couch. Grandma went to her room to find the old VHSs. She sat beside me, her gentle arms around me as the videos played.  
"That was their wedding day," Grandma whispered in my ear. My mom was in the most beautiful wedding dress I'd seen, so simple, yet so effective. She walked down the aisle on Grandad's arm, her other hand rested on her small baby bump. Dad was waiting for her, smiling at his bride. I'd never seen him so happy, and as she reached him, he whispered.

"You're beautiful."

He placed one hand on her face, and the other on her stomach. She giggled, her voice high pitched and silvery, as she put her hand over his. Tears formed in my eyes.

"She was his life," Grandma murmured, "Meeting her turned his life around completely. She changed him, but everything went back to how it was after he lost her."

I sighed quietly, staring at my feet as I tried my hardest to stop picturing Dad so upset. I looked up again when I saw my parents at the hospital. Dad was holding her hand as they both looked at a monitor, which was displaying me and my sister before our birth.

"Two babies, Jazz!" Mom squealed, "Two!"

"She was eighteen when she became pregnant with you both," Grandma pulled me close, "So young."

I started crying at the sight of my Mom sitting between mine and Izzy's incubators.

"You two are the bravest little baby girls in the whole world. Hold on for me and Daddy, okay? Be our little fighters. We love you both so much, little angels," Mom whispered, her voice soothing and loving. She began to sing, a song a didn't recognise.

"What song is that?" I asked quietly.

"Her favourite song, Songbird," Grandma sighed, gently stroking my hair.

"I want to sing that in my contest," I stated, "For her and my sister."

Tears filled Grandma's eyes, and it wasn't long before she broke down into gentle sobs.

"Oh, honey!" she whispered, hugging me tight, "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

I leaned on her gently, smiling as my mom held me, probably for the first time. She was crying as my tiny body was laid on her chest.

"Hey, little Jazzy!" she cooed ecstatically, stroking my back, "Mommy's little fighter. You're so little, but you'll grow and be a healthy little girl. I know it."

She planted a tender kiss on my head, and then passed me to my father. She took Izzy from him. Dad studied my face with soft eyes and smiled.

"You look so much like your mother," he whispered, holding my miniscule hand in his thumb and forefinger and kissing it softly, "So beautiful."

He whispered something to me softly, holding me carefully against him.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing me again.

I sniffled, and Grandma stroked my hair, not saying a word. Mom now had both of us in her arms, back at home. I occasionally coughed and let out little whimpers. She sighed, laying Izzy in the crib for a moment.

"Get better for Mommy and Daddy, little one. We're worried about you," she whispered, stroking my head softly and hushing me softly. In her arms, I started wailing.

"Oh, oh, sweetie," Mom soothed quietly, rocking me slowly, "It's alright. Everything's alright...you'll get better. I'm sure you will."

The VHS cut to another scene. Hers and Izzy's funeral. I closed my eyes, and Grandma turned it off.

"You don't have to see that if you don't want to," she shook her head, "Not until you're ready."

"I don't think I'd ever be ready," I stated, and then drew my knees up to my chest, "She was amazing."

I whimpered, the tears beginning to fall quickly. Grandma sighed quietly and hugged me close.

"She was the most amazing, most natural mother I'd seen," she said, kissing my cheek softly, "Your Aunt Rosalie, she longed to be a mother so much more than her, but your mom took to motherhood instantly. Rosalie took a little longer."

"Didn't Aunt Rosalie look after me when I was a baby?" I looked up at her.

"Just after the funeral. Your Dad, as you know, refused to have anything to do with you. Me and your Grandad were so busy with work we just couldn't look after you!" Grandma sighed, "But she adored you, she volunteered to take care of you instantly."

"I haven't seen her in so long."

"She's in New York with her work. I'm sure she'll come see you soon," Grandma smiled softly, "You're so lucky to have so much loving family."

"I upset Dad, didn't I?" I mumbled, "I wished him dead..."

Grandma nodded, "He was pretty upset. But sweetie, he's barely been a good father to you."

"That's not an excuse. I went too far," I ruffled my hair with my hands in mild embarrassment, and then went upstairs for an early night.


	6. Pride

The singing contest arrived sooner than I wanted it to. I had since gone home to Dad's house, and I'd apologised for wishing him dead. Dad, surprisingly, acknowledged my apology and thanked me for it.

On the morning of my contest, I dragged myself from my bed and began to get ready. I felt sick with nerves, and hoped I wouldn't actually throw up.

"Jasmine?" Dad said quietly as I stared at the wood of the table. I looked up at him, "Are you alright?"

His face showed a little concern.

"Just nervous," I replied quietly. Dad didn't answer; he just put my breakfast on the table. I hadn't told him my song choice, and I hadn't told him that I was wearing one of Mom's dresses. He wasn't going to watch me, I didn't see the point.

"Good luck," he murmured as he dropped me off at the venue of the competition. I made my own way to the dressing room, and found all the contestants talking amongst themselves and their parents. I was too shy to try and talk to any of them, and so I went and sat in the corner of the room. I read through the booklet given to me as I entered, not really taking interest in what it said. I just wanted to look occupied.

The preliminaries started at 10am, and none of my family came to watch. Everyone else had at least one family member with them, but all I had was my music teacher. With the help of my Grandma, I'd picked a song for the preliminaries that my mom had loved before her death.

"Jasmine Whitlock," a voice called, and I stumbled shakily onto the stage. I certainly hadn't inherited the grace I was told my mother had.

"Hey, sweetheart," a gentle looking woman said softly.

"Hello," I replied shyly, subconsciously moving my fringe from my face.

"What will you sing for us today?" she smiled.

"In the Arms of the Angels," I said shakily, playing with my hands.

"Don't be nervous, sweetie. Relax. Good luck."

I began the song shakily, but I began to improve by the end. I felt terrible. Out of all the practises I'd done with Grandma, it was by far the worst. I was sure I wasn't good enough. The other contestants had all been flawless. They all went to sit with their parents to see the other performances, while I went back to the prep room, sitting in the corner and starting to cry.

"Jazzy?" Grandma's familiar soft voice whispered.

"Grandma!" I whimpered, standing up and running into her arms.

"Oh, sweetie, what's wrong?" she held my face in her hands.

"I messed it up!" I wept, "I let her down."

My sobs were uncontrollable, devastated at the prospect of not doing my mom proud.

"She'll be proud of you," Grandma kissed my cheek, "It's a big thing to sing in front of so many people. You tried. That's what matters."

"Is Grandad here?" I asked quietly. Grandma nodded, smiling.

"In the audience with your teacher. I'm sorry we couldn't have been here earlier, honey."

"It's alright," I sniffled, "At least you came.

Grandma sighed and nodded a little, "If your mom was here, she would have been front row," she smiled. I couldn't help smiling at the thought.

The female judge, the one who had spoken to me while on stage, came into the room.

"We've been looking for you, Jasmine," she said in an overly friendly tone, but then she noticed my expression, "Is everything okay?"

"I messed it up," I mumbled, "I wanted to do well for my mom."

"But you did so great!" she knelt by me, and then looked at Grandma, "I'm sure your mom is so proud."

"I'm…her grandmother," Grandma said quietly.

"My mom died when I was a baby," I sniffled. The judge seemed a little taken, but recovered and sighed.

"We're giving the results now, sweetheart. I think you should come and see," she smiled at me sympathetically. I nodded, standing up and following her. Grandma held my hand. I sat between my grandparents, and Grandad gently kissed my forehead and pulled me close.

"I know you did great," he smiled. I closed my eyes tight and leaned on him.

"It was a very tough decision to make, but our ten finalists are as follows…"

I didn't listen, almost certain my name wouldn't be read out. I stared at the floor in disappointment.

"Jasmine Whitlock."

I hadn't been paying attention. I heard my name and grunted a little, as if I was back in one of Dad's history classes at school. I didn't realise anything until Grandma practically threw me up in the air.

"You did it!" she gushed excitedly, "Oh sweetheart, you did it!"

I gasped, standing up instantly.

"I need to call my friend," I said in a rush, and escaped outside. Instead of dialling a friend's number, I called another.

"Jasmine?" Dad answered a little cautiously.

"I'm in the final, Dad!" I almost screamed down the phone at him, "I thought I messed up and blew it!"

"Well done. That's good. That's really…really good," Dad replied hesitantly, "Your mom would be so proud."

After a moment's silence, he said one thing that meant the most to me.

"I'm proud of you, darlin'."


	7. Triumph

I smiled to myself at what I'd just heard. My Dad was proud of me. _My Dad_. And he said my Mom would be proud too.

I returned to my grandparents, and Grandma reached her arm to me.

"Were they proud?" she asked, hugging me gently. I nodded.

"Very," I smiled, happiness overflowing from me. I was taken to a dressing room with Grandma, who helped me into my dress and braided my hair.

"Oh, Jazzy," she smiled, tears in her eyes, "You're the double of your Mom."

I smiled a little, looking at myself in the mirror. I giggled, slowly turning in a circle. Grandma kissed my cheek softly, leading me to the side of the stage. All the other contestants were there, watching me as I arrived. I stared at the floor self consciously.

"Good luck, sweetheart," she smiled, "You'll do great. Do your Mommy proud."

I nodded silently, and I noticed a couple of the others still staring at me. I looked down at the floor again, getting more and more nervous. The first eight contestants came and went, and finally my name was called. I saw Grandma and Grandad sitting a few rows to the front. I took a deep breath, and the door at the back opened. Through it, appeared my father. I smiled a little, taking the microphone into my hand.

"This is for my Mom," I said shakily, looking at Dad again, "And my Dad."

Despite the distance, I saw his eyes widen. I began to sing my mother's favourite song, watching my Dad the whole time. He seemed to freeze for a moment, noticing my dress and my uncanny resemblance to my mother, his soul mate. His hand flew to his mouth, and when everyone stood with applause, I was sure he fell to his knees.

I didn't care how I did, because I knew my Dad had heard my singing, and by what I saw, he'd been positively affected. I left the stage quickly, my legs trembling with the pure adrenalin running through my veins.

"You've all done so well," the judge smiled, "But we can only have one winner."

I looked over at Grandma, who grinned at me excitedly. I smiled back, not listening to anything the judge was saying. I thought I had no chance, I thought if I got anything, I'd get a runner up. Whatever I got, I didn't care. I'd done my family proud.

I heard my name being called out, and Grandma practically leapt out of her seat. I looked around, presuming I was runner up until I was handed a silver trophy.

"We thought Jasmine was a very deserving winner, singing in honour of her parents beautifully. Congratulations, sweetheart," the judge smiled at me excitedly. It hadn't properly sunk in, I was just watching Dad. He was standing up, clapping enthusiastically and nodding as we made eye contact.

I got changed into my normal clothes, then took my bag and went outside to be collected. As I came outside, many of the parents applauded me. I blushed in embarrassment, looking around for my grandparents. To my surprise, I found my Dad waiting for me. I looked at the floor awkwardly as I walked over to him, and he pulled me into a close hug. I gasped at the shock.

"I'm so sorry!" he whispered to me, stroking my hair softly, "My little girl!"

I had no idea what to say, how to react, what to do, and so I automatically began to cry.

"You…you're the spitting image of her. I've been the worst father to you. I've let her down, I've let _you_ down, and I'm so sorry!"

Dad started crying too, his tears falling onto my head, "I'm so proud of you!"

"I love you, Daddy," I whispered, and Dad took my hand gently, walking me to the car so we could talk things through. Grandma ran over to us, catching me up in a huge hug and stroking my hair.

"Well done, sweetheart! We're so happy for you!" she smiled, kissing my forehead gently. She set me down on my feet, "You two need to talk. And for a long time."

I nodded a little, looking up at Dad. Her softly kissed my forehead.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Grandad hugged me gently; "You did great."

"Thanks, Grandad," I whispered shyly, and Dad gently led me to the car and began to drive me home.


	8. Loss

Once we got home, I put my stuff away and returned downstairs to my Dad. He was sitting on the couch, and beckoned me to join him. I sat beside him and leaned on him, letting out a sigh.

"Ask me anything, darlin'," he whispered, "Anything you want to know about her."

"How did she," I paused for a moment, "How did she die?"

Dad clearly hadn't been expecting _that_ question, as he froze for a few seconds. After my words sunk in, I saw tears form in his eyes. I immediately regretted my choice.

"I'm sorry," I whispered frantically, as Dad had put his head in his hands, "You don't have to answer."

"No, no," Dad closed his eyes, "You should know. I just…I've never had to tell it before. I hope it doesn't upset you too much."

He pulled me onto his knee, and I rested my head on his shoulder. I slid my hand in his for security.

"You and Izzy, you'd been home for about a month. You'd been suffering with a minor infection, and your mother watched over you constantly until you recovered. Just a few days later, when she began to relax a little, I heard her scream from your room.

"Izzy!" she was shrieking, but then she began to shout for me. I ran into the room, finding you screaming from the disturbance and your mom on the floor in absolute hysterics, holding Izzy in her arms.

"My baby girl!" she wailed as she handed over your sister to me. She ran to the phone, leaving me alone in the room. I was terrified, staring at my own daughter's lifeless body in my arms. She looked as if she was sleeping, and for a moment I was positive she was, hoping that Alice was just overreacting. But then I felt her little hand…"

Dad hesitated, closing his eyes and trying to repress the memory, "It was so cold…I didn't forget it for weeks…I can feel it now."

He stared at my hand joined with his, squeezing mine a little in order to feel some warmth. I blinked away a few tears.

"Alice was hysterical…she was screaming down the phone to her father…getting so angry at him.

"You have to save her! My Izzy! Save her!" she was screaming, but then got more and more demanding as he tried to calm her down. I kissed Izzy's cheek softly, laying her down in her crib and trying to calm Alice down. I took her into my arms, trying to stay strong as she broke down into more hysterics. She kept whispering things, about how it was her fault, how she'd failed as a mother. It broke me to hear such things, as I couldn't have imagined a better mother for you both.

Your Grandfather came over with several doctors, who took Izzy away for tests. They said they'd need to run tests on you as well, in case it was a condition you both shared. Your mother, she begged for them to save her, she begged for her to go with them, and I was forced to restrain her as she got violent with desperation. She calmed down after an hour, and by that time you'd calmed down to sleep again. She sat by your crib and lifted you, cuddling you and talking to you softly. She was saying things like "Say strong, little one. You need to stay strong for Mommy." And "It's alright…Mommy and Daddy are here, we'll protect you."

After she said that, she broke down all over again, calling herself a bad mother for not preventing Izzy death.

I took her to bed, but at about two in the morning I woke up to hear her running from our room. I followed her instantly as she grabbed her coat and headed for the door."

"Where was she going?" I asked, and Dad sighed and shook his head.

"I have no idea. No one knows. She didn't tell me, but I think that she was going to try and get Izzy back. It's the only reason I could think of. I took her by the shoulders and stopped her in her tracks, turning her to face me.

"Where are you going?" I frowned, and she kissed me softly.

"I love you," she whispered, and went outside, dropping her coat at my feet. I went to follow her, until I heard a screech of breaks and a small crash. Before the crash, I heard her scream."

"Oh, no!" I blurted out, my hand over my mouth as the tears began flowing properly. Dad cuddled me close and stroked my hair, waiting for me to calm down before he continued. I knew what was coming.

"I ran outside and found her curled up on her side in the road. I knelt by her, looking so frail and fragile in the middle of the road. There was no blood, and her eyes were closed. I pressed two fingers into her neck to find a pulse, and to my relief I found one. Her breathing was shallow and harsh, and when I took her bruised hand she began to respond.

"Jazz?" she whispered.

"I'm here," I soothed, tears falling down my cheeks as I stroked her hair softly. The driver got out of her car; she'd been on her mobile and hadn't noticed Alice until it was too late. The damage had been done, and I refused to accept her apology. If she had been concentrating on the road, Alice could still be here now. I told her to call an ambulance, and then completely ignored her presence.

"Look after our Jazzy. She needs you," Alice reached her hand to me, and it was shaking violently.

"Stay with me, Alice. An ambulance is coming, you're going to be alright," I said frantically, but Alice shook her head a little.

"I'm…I'm…" she stuttered, "I don't want to leave you and Jazzy."

"You won't, you're going to get better," I failed to hold back the tears, "I can't do this on my own, Alice!"

Her shaking hand came in contact with my face, "Shh, shh," she whispered, whimpering in pain, "Hold me, Jazz."

I knew moving her could worsen her injuries, and so I had no idea what to do. I wanted to make her comfortable, I wanted to hold her, but then again, I wanted her to be as undamaged as possible. I gently moved her as slowly as I could manage, cradling her like a baby and supporting her head.

"My angel," I began to cry properly, "Keep talking to me, keep talking. Don't lose focus."

"I love you," Alice whispered, "Spoil our Jazzy. Treat her like a princess."

Dad's voice cracked, unable to keep himself together. He hugged me close and I clung to him, crying with him quietly.

"The ambulance arrived, just as she took her last breath. I clung to her, screaming and longing for her to wake up. Her eyes were open and staring at me, their spark I'd loved replaced with a lifeless glaze. Your grandparents pulled up, both in tears from what they saw."

I was crying harder at the images playing in my head. Dad holding my mom and crying with the agony of his loss. My grandparents crying, something I'd never experienced properly before. I'd seen Grandma get tearful, but I knew she would have been so much worse back then. Grandad never cried. It was unheard of, and I was sure it would freak me out if I had to witness that.


	9. Explanations

We'd sat in silence for about five minutes, trying to get ourselves together. Dad gently stroked my hair, and my head was rested on his chest. My knees were drawn up to my chest. My sobs had calmed into silence, and Dad broke the silence.

"I was so depressed from losing such huge parts of my life like that. I just couldn't bear it," he sighed softly, "I was neglecting you. I didn't want to; I would never want to hurt you! I just couldn't bring myself out of bed at all. I had to energy to feed, change or bathe you. If I'd kept you with me, you would have starved or got sick…I had to take you to your grandparents for your own good. I visited you as often as I could when I slowly stopped being such a recluse, but I wasn't ready to take you back yet. You got older, you began to talk, and all I saw and heard was _her._

"I got myself together eight years after I lost Alice, and once I'd sorted myself with a job and a better home, I took you back…although I acted so badly! It's a stupid excuse, but I just saw Alice. I acted so cold because I was afraid I'd break down just by seeing how much you looked like her. I felt as if you were trying to tease me, when of course you weren't. You didn't ask to look so much like her."

I sighed, looking up at Dad without meeting his eyes, "I ruined your life."

"No, no," Dad shook his head, kissing my forehead, "It was that day that ruined my life. If I'd lost all three of you…" Dad closed his eyes tight and sighed, "I probably wouldn't be here…it would have all been too much."

"You would have killed yourself?" I gasped. Dad stayed quiet for a moment, finding the correct words.

"You saved my life, Jasmine. By staying alive, you gave me a reason to live," he smiled at me slightly, "But the first two years were hard for me, I just couldn't adjust to life without her. I was admitted into hospital twice during those two years."

"Why?" I frowned. Dad took a deep breath and sighed.

"Your grandmother found me both times…both times from excessive alcohol," he shook his head with pure shame, "The first time, you were about six months old, so you didn't understand. The second, I think you were nearly two. Every time she brought you to see me, she'd put you down and you'd run around trying to find me. I think that was your favourite part," he laughed quietly, but his face suddenly turned serious, "I was on the floor in my room, a complete mess. I was barely conscious, and clearly in a bad way. You ran away instantly to find your Grandma. She insisted I was the one you always talked about, but she was the one you went to for protection. But that's my fault. I've been a lousy father, and I don't deserve such a forgiving daughter."

"You do," I whispered, "You deserve more than you think, Daddy."

"She'd be so proud. You've done so well…she wouldn't be proud of me."

"She would. You realised your mistake. You're making it right again. Mom would be so proud of you," I looked up at him, "I wish I knew her."

"She was an amazing mother. The moment she first held you both, her face just lit up. She'd been so ill during her pregnancy. She had a c-section, and after she recovered from it, she held you both. One in each arm. She cheered up so much, she was in love with you both, obsessed. She couldn't take her eyes away from her girls."

"What did Izzy look like?" I asked, and Dad smiled at the memories of his second daughter.

"Just like you," he looked at me, "I couldn't tell you both apart, but your mother could, of course. She said she had my blonde hair, my eyes. She said she'd look just like me, when you'd look just like her," he kissed my cheek, "She was right about that."  
He wiped away a few tears and sighed, "So beautiful."


	10. Letting Go

On what would have been my mother's 32nd birthday, Dad took me to the cemetery to see her grave. He'd always laid flowers down every year, and again on mine and Izzy's birthday. He'd never told me, so I thought he'd just deserted me every birthday. I placed some lilies, Mom's favourite flowers, by the headstone.

_Mary Alice Brandon Cullen, Passed away aged just eighteen in 1998. Beloved wife and mother._

"I love you, Mom," I whispered almost silently, wiping away a few tears. Next to Mom's grave was Izzy's, and I stopped and read the engraving.

_Isabelle Rosalie Cullen Whitlock, Passed away shortly after birth, 1998._

"I love you, Izzy," I sniffled, laying a small pink rose by her headstone. I couldn't stop myself crying, wishing I could remember them.

"Look after each other," I mumbled, "Sweet dreams."

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I went to stand by Dad again. He held me close for a few minutes, soothing me softly as if I was a baby. He took my hand and knelt by the graves, placing a small photo of all four of us together. It was his tradition to place that photo there for a few days around Mom and Izzy's birthdays. He kissed two fingers, placing them gently on Izzy and Mom on the photo.

"Rest in peace, my angels," he wavered softly, pulling me close. I let out more tears, the memories of Dad telling me about how he lost them coming back to me.

Once we had composed ourselves, we stood up, our hands still joined, and we slowly walked away, back home to build on our new relationship.


End file.
